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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22532947">Hum Hallelujah</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyaneidae/pseuds/cyaneidae'>cyaneidae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hold Me Tight Or Don't [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, F/M, Fluff, Minor Angst, Rose has a big heart, The Author Regrets Nothing, This is incredibly sweet, and she's not afraid to use it, i make no apologies, the love story installment, which is almost immediately overshadowed by all the gooeyness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:42:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22532947</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyaneidae/pseuds/cyaneidae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>--And he thinks, I don't love it. But I love you.</p><p>That's merely the start.</p><p>Or: Armitage Hux Catches Feelings (Against His Will)<br/>Or or: "The Kids Aren't Alright" prequel #1</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, GingerRose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hold Me Tight Or Don't [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607248</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hum Hallelujah</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm currently postcall from an anesthesia shift on labor &amp; delivery and clearly a certain subject (NOT babies, surprisingly) Would Not Get Out of My Head, so here, have this. /throws glitter\</p><p>(Title again by Fall Out Boy)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Armitage Hux, if he ever cared to think about his childhood (a part of his life he'd definitely, <em>most definitely</em>, rather <em>not</em> ever think upon), would have to say that he can't remember if he ever experienced<em> it</em>. Love.</p><p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His father certainly never showed him any, and his mother...well, he doesn't even remember her <em>face</em> anymore, much less her <em>name</em>. Whether she ever loved her son is certainly not something he knows now.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>As he gets older, his father treats him more roughly--more like one of Brendol Hux's <em>soldiers</em> than his <em>son</em>. Eventually Armitage<em> is</em> one of his father's soldiers, in reality. And it is burned into his mind that love is shameful, a weakness, something that the First Order <em>certainly</em> doesn't endorse.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>So by the time Armitage becomes an adult, love is the farthest from being something on his mind. Other than it being a weakness the New Republic and the Resistance like to tout as something <em>good</em> and <em>helpful</em> when really it is nothing more than a flaw the First Order can exploit to its own gain.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He does not need love. He needs <em>power</em> and <em>strength</em> and <em>cunning</em> and absolutely does <em>not</em> need any of the messy emotions associated with something so plebeian and disgusting as <em>love</em>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He doesn't know love. He does not have relationships in the First Order. He has commanding officers, then he has subordinates; he has colleagues, most hated enemies, and horribly detested allies, but he absolutely does not have anything so <em>beneath</em> him as a companion he is emotionally tied to.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>That is <em>before.</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then suddenly he is betraying the First Order out of spite, out of a detestation for Kylo Ren and everything he stands for. Armitage Hux is suddenly slyly passing secrets to the Resistance, internally gleefully cackling when the Resistance then foils Ren at every turn.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then it is routine for Armitage to send messages back and forth daily with his contact in the Resistance, someone who seems <em>so familiar</em> and yet someone he can't place. (Which is not altogether weird given that they are conversing via messages only and not via voice or holo.) Then he strangely becomes <em>attached</em> to his spy position and his Resistance contact. Then suddenly he is ridiculously wondering if what he's doing <em>now</em> is what's right...not all the things he spent <em>years</em>--his entire career--building.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He helps the three Resistance prisoners escape.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then he gets shot. (But into blaster-proof armor under his clothes, because Pryde is a <em>fool</em> who thinks Armitage Hux isn't a survivor above all else.)</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then he gets rescued by The Resistance. For reasons unknown to him. And while they initially place him in the brig, they do not immediately execute him. They treat him fairly (way more fairly than they ought to, he thinks, given that he is much more of a war criminal to them than anything else).</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They finally decide he is worth more as an alive spy than as a dead traitor.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then, <em>then</em> he meets his Resistance contact in person. <em>Oh</em>. It's <em>her</em>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They meet daily--in person, this time--as he continues to tell her First Order secrets that will help the Resistance destroy every last bit of it left in the galaxy.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They do not always get along. In fact, they bite nasty retorts at each other for the longest time before they talk of anything productive. He can tell she is getting her anger out on him, <em>because</em> of him, and...<em>and</em> <em>he does not blame her</em>. He has plenty of his anger of his own, none of it her fault, and yet he has snide remarks for her every day initially, anyway.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then, <em>then</em>, he realizes they are no longer sniping at each other daily. Bantering, surely, but that has become their thing, he supposes. And it is shocking to realize they have <em>things, </em>now. (But if severely pressed, he privately would think it is not a bad something that he and Rose have<em> things</em> together. In fact...he <em>might</em> quite like it. Might. In a <em>very</em> small part of his mind.)</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then he suddenly has his own quarters (<em>even if they are small and cramped and nothing like his spacious First Order ones</em>. <em>They are ugly and bright and everything that makes him cringe...but, </em>but <em>they are his. As a free man.</em>).</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And he is going over to <em>her </em>quarters every day to have tea (<em>she sometimes switches hers for caf when the missions are long and tiring and she is absolutely </em>beyond<em> exhausted</em>). Just, professionally, of course. To talk about missions and First Order secrets. Because that's why he's still alive, of course.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then they are sitting at the same table, in <em>public</em>, chatting over lunch. And going on errands together and teasing each other over the stupidest things (even if it is mostly <em>her</em> teasing and <em>him</em> being the object of ridicule in every aspect....which he takes surprisingly well, because it is <em>her.</em>)</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then he is laughing at one of her silly jokes and granting her a rare smile and she puts a hand on his arm and he smiles wider at the warmth and--<em>oh</em>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rose Tico is brilliant and stubborn<em> and </em>so incredibly <em>messy</em> his neat-nick self absolutely can't stand to stare at anything out of place in her room longer than five minutes <em>and </em>she is caring and funny and beautiful and, <em>and</em>---he is absolutely, positively, <em>completely in love with her.</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>Oh</em>. So that's what love feels like.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>----</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He first knows he loves her when they are outside on one of their errands and it suddenly starts <em>pouring</em>. Rain is coming down in miserable <em>buckets</em> and he absolutely could have <em>told her</em> this was going to happen (he <em>did</em> tell her, in fact, but she brushed him off and said he worried too much).</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He's grumbling and asking her why ever did she <em>refuse</em> to listen to the Arkanisian in the room about the coming rain when she laughs and says,</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"The plants will love it, though! Even if the humans don't love it,"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And her lips crinkle up in a grin and rain is dripping down her eyelashes and Armitage has <em>never</em> seen anyone so happy to be so wet. And somehow, the image of her, <em>sopping wet and smiling</em>, is suddenly <em>hilarious</em> to him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He is cackling at her joke and grinning hugely--something which is rare for him (but has happened <em>a lot</em> more recently, he's noticed)--when<em> it</em> happens. It's like it happens in slow motion.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He's laughing and they're both smiling and then she puts her warm hand on his arm and, <em>oh</em>, she's <em>soft</em> and <em>so pretty</em> and--</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>--And he thinks, <em>I don't love it. But I love you.</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>That's merely the start.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>----</p>
</div><div><p></p><div><p></p><div><p>He knows he loves her when he returns to his quarters one day to find a calico kitten with a bow around its neck absolutely wrecking <em>havoc</em> upon his things...and he does not immediately yell at everyone and everything in the vicinity for this <em>disaster</em>.</p></div>There is no note or explanation, but he knows <em>exactly</em> who is responsible for this chaos and why. Millicent has been dead for exactly a year.</div><div><p>Armitage supposes this is Rose's way of helping him move on. Or perhaps she just wanted to introduce more variability into his life, as she is always saying he needs to "loosen a few buttons on that collar already, for stars sake!".</p></div><div><p>He sighs and sinks into the nearest chair. The kitten takes this as a sign to use his feet as a nesting spot and cuddles up to him, purring loudly.</p></div>Armitage reaches down to scratch the kitten behind its ears, near the bow, thinking that, at very least, he'll have a confidant to tell his secret to.</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>My life has never been the same</em>, he thinks,<em> since I met her</em>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>----</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He knows he loves her when she's about to embark on a mission in the Mid-Rim that is definitely<em> not</em> going to be easy <em>or</em> safe...and he doesn't put his foot down and cuff her to her desk so she absolutely cannot go on said mission.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Even though he absolutely positively <em>wants</em> to. Even though a previous version of him (a fairly <em>recent</em> version of him) <em>would</em> have been an absolute authoritarian asshole and told her, "Absolutely not, you are <em>not</em> going," and done everything to sabotage her going.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Instead, he annoys her with every single caution he can think of. Every single preparation that could possibly, <em>maybe,</em> keep her safe.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"--And also, you should--"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Just STOP, won't you??" she yells at him. "What has even gotten<em> into</em> you, Armitage?? It's going to be fine, <em>I'm</em> going to fine, and I'm absolutely not going to do <em>that</em>, that's ridiculous!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"But perhaps, if you considered--" he starts, agitated.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"NO!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"--And--"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Why won't you LISTEN to me??" he shouts back, throwing a hand roughly through his hair.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Because that's STUPID and I <em>won't</em>! I don't need that kind of preparation, it's <em>ridiculous,</em> and I won't do it, and I don't know why you have such a <em>stick up your ass</em> about this, I don't know why you suddenly care so much about--"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, ROSE, AND I WORRY ABOUT YOU, YOU RIDICULOUSLY HEADSTRONG STUPIDLY COURAGEOUS LOVABLE FOOL!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And it is suddenly, awkwardly quiet. Rose blanches and he throws his head into his hands and growls pathetically into them. He's just told her he loves her for the first time, and this is absolutely <em>not</em> the way he wanted to do it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I love you too, Armitage, my ridiculously tight-laced, stick-in-the-mud, caring, meticulous fool," she finally says, her voice quiet but much closer than before.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"...This is not at all how I wanted to tell you," he says miserably, head still in his hands, as he tries to blink back sudden tears. Then he feels her hands on his wrists, gently tugging his hands away from his face.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She's crying freely, but her lips are curved into a slight smile, and his frown lightens a touch.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You stupid fool, I'm always careful," Rose says, reaching up to wipe away a tear off his face, "And I always come back. Also, I have extra incentive to return this time."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She tugs his face down to hers and gives him a quick kiss. Which quickly morphs into a <em>deeper</em> kiss, which <em>then</em> leads to his hands reaching down to grab under her ass and pull her up to his level, her legs wrapped around his waist--because their relationship has been <em>many</em> things, but never unemotional.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's the worst to be in love, he thinks ruefully.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>(He wouldn't have it any other way.)</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>----</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He knows he loves her when, the morning after they've finally, <em>finally</em> merged their lives and moved in together, he opens his eyes and immediately spots scattered dirty clothes on the dresser that were <em>not</em> among those they hastily shed last night before shamelessly christening their new space...and he does not immediately run for the hills.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>This is not even mentioning all the datapads and scattered tools that already lovingly adorn various surfaces of their bedroom. Despite the fact that they've lived in the place less than 24hrs. (He wonders absently where their kitten--newly and finally named Tabitha--has gotten to. Probably playing with one of their empty moving boxes in another room.)</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>Rose is absolutely the messiest person I have ever</em>--and that thought is cut short, because suddenly her previously still hand gropes around under the covers until it finds his thigh and <em>squeezes</em>. Then it moves more medially and <em>oh</em>--</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Good morning," she says sleepily into his ear, her other hand stroking through his hair and--</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Good morning," he says back to her, gasping slightly as her one hand resumes movement, then turns his neck to lightly peck her on the lips.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Yes, it is a <em>very</em> good morning.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Even if she is the absolute <em>worst</em> slob he's ever met.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He loves her anyway.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>----</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He knows he loves her when she gets sick and leaves gross snot-filled tissues all over their quarters...and he merely sighs and warms up more hot tea and soup for her.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Thanks so much, Armitage," she says nasally, sounding congested and absolutely <em>disgusting, </em>as she grabs the tea from his hands from her perch in their bed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You're welcome," he tells her, going to sit on the bed next to her comforter-covered feet, still holding the soup. He turns to look at her, appraising her, deciding whether she's getting better or getting worse, when Tabitha seizes the moment to jump onto Rose's blanket covered lap.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rose sets the tea down on the bedside table and runs her hand through the kitten's orange fur, smiling softly.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'll have someone to keep me company, at least, so don't you worry," she says lightly (but still very, very nasally, which makes him cringe).</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em> Ah</em>, it seems they've resumed their back-and-forth about whether or not he should go on this next mission, given that she's suddenly taken ill and he wants to refuse to go on principal. (Also, he needs to take care of her, of course, because he's not sure she can manage without him. <em>Especially</em> while ill.)</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I still don't think I should go," he says, looking down at Tabitha kneading her paws into Rose's lap before glancing back up at the woman herself.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Of course you should! They need you. You'll be a big help. Don't worry about me."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And then she sneezes. All over her lap, the cat, the soup still cradled in his hands in <em>his</em> lap...since he was apparently <em>fool</em> enough to leave the tissues on the nightstand and not in his lap, ready to hand her one. He gets up again and sets the soup on the bedside table next to the tea.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"...somehow I have trouble not worrying about you. Wonder why."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Oh hush!" And her face scrunches up in a pout, accentuating her very small, very cute, and currently very <em>red</em>, nose.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then she sneezes again. This time into a tissue, because he was ready this time around and shoved it into her hand fast enough.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It's a good thing I love you, because that was absolutely <em>disgusting</em>, Rose."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I love you, too, Armitage. Even when you're inevitably in this same bed in a week, coughing more little viral particles all over our beautiful comforter."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Which will be entirely, I may point out, <em>your</em> fault. For getting sick in the first place."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Of course, dear." And she blows him a kiss. He finds himself pretending to catch said kiss and press it to his heart.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Armitage thinks it's hilariously ironic that they've become one of the <em>disgustingly-in-love</em> couples he always used to grumble about.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>----</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He knows he loves her when, during dinner one night, after she's told one of her quite ridiculous jokes and he's guffawed even <em>more</em> absolutely ridiculously, she smiles bigger at him and says, "Off-topic, but how many were you thinking about, anyway? I was thinking four or five is a good number. That way they'll always have someone to play with. We'll have our own mini-troop!"</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And when he startles and asks her in return, "How many <em>what</em>? <em>Cats</em>?" and begins to worriedly wonder where on Yavin she'd gotten <em>that</em> idea from, anyway--</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She says in return, "<em>No</em>, silly. Four or five kids, of course."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And his eyes widen further and it takes everything in him to <em>pause</em>, take a deep breath, and not immediately say the most recent answer he's decided upon (which is: <em>'Of course not!! One or two, at most!").</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Instead, he slowly grabs her hand, squeezes it, holds her gaze steadily, and says, "That sounds like a perfectly reasonable number to me."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Even though his insides are absolutely in chaos. Even though they've only been living together for a few months. <em>Even though he hasn't even gotten a ring yet!</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Armitage takes another deep breath and doesn't regret his answer when her smile correspondingly widens.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He's in so very, very deep.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>----</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He knows he loves her when they end up having not one or two, but <em>five</em> kids, <em>all force sensitive</em>, and there are countless lightsabers just lying around for him to trip over.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>(And he<em> does</em>. <em>Multiple</em> times. Despite telling the kids that <em>one, a lightsaber is most definitely not a toy</em>, and number two, <em>they should know better!</em> After one too many trips on the stairs, he <em>finally</em> dedicates a closet to their much maligned weapons.)</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>(This is later a closet that his eldest daughter, Paige, and Bail Solo will later use for, <em>well</em>, a <em>not-really-fighting</em> purpose. Much to Armitage's even bigger horror and agitation.)</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>(His second eldest will find the young pair in said closet and use said scene as blackmail. Armitage is simultaneously proud of this deviousness, when he later grills Jayllin upon the details, and also horrified that <em>he</em> created the opportunity for that awful event.)</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>(Rose just laughs at him, like she always does, and kisses him sweetly, like she <em>also</em> always does. He loves her, he really does, but did they have to have <em>four daughters</em>?? He liked them much better when they were little and he could keep them safe.)</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>(Armitage loves his son, too, of course--who, with four older sisters, is the much-coddled baby of the family. His antics don't bother Armitage as much, though, because at this point he's resigned himself to a life full of force sensitive nonsense. That and he knows <em>tricks</em> now to keep himself and Rose from bearing the brunt of so much of it.)</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She had once told him she wanted<em> four or five kids</em> and he'd docilely agreed with her. Even before he knew they'd all be force sensitive. Even before he knew how much chaos they'd cause.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She got what she wanted. And, he supposes, <em>so did he</em>.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The love in their family--and especially between him and her--is beyond his wildest dreams.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>----</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He knows he loves her when it's been years--literally <em>decades</em>--and he feels that same warmth in his chest as he did that very first day.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Their kids help him plan the very best Mother's Day surprise for Rose one year. He lines them up precisely, the old vestiges of his military career creeping in, and takes one last look at the room before he turns out the lights.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>When Rose opens the door (<em>exhausted from a long mission that she is, frankly, getting too old for, deeply missing her husband and her adorable kids</em>), it is to shouts of "SURPRISE," "Happy Mother's Day," a lovely cake, a mug of caf, a table full of presents, and plenty of grinning faces. Her hand goes to her mouth in shock.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She shuts the door and drops her bag on the mat where she stands, looking from face to face, seeking out her husband's eyes last. Armitage is positively grinning with amusement, and he raises his eyebrows at her teasingly. He's so pleased he can still manage to surprise her, even after all these years.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rose walks further into the room, her kids quickly surrounding her and giving her plenty of hugs and well wishes. Armitage waits until they have all finished before approaching her himself, giving her a quick peck on the lips and a suggestive <em>look</em> that tells her they'll have their <em>own</em> private celebration later, with <em>much</em> deeper kisses (amongst other things).</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Happy Mother's Day, Rose," he tells her. "I love you very much. And I suppose all our kids, too, who may or may not have given me more grey hairs in the planning of this."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She whacks him on the shoulder for that comment. Then smooths out said-greying hair.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Thank you for this, Armitage. I'm so happy to be home; I missed you all so much."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He smiles bigger and grabs her warm hands in his.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I'm happy you are too," he says, squeezing her hands. Then he leads her toward the table, which is filled with some of her absolute favorite things. Surrounded by her favorite people.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He can't imagine why he ever thought he didn't need love.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>----</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She knows she loves him when she comes home from a miserably long and difficult (and <em>rainy</em>) mission and he's there outside her door, waiting, tea in one hand and a warm blanket in the other.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I would have gotten you caf but I figured you'd probably want to sleep after all of that craziness...so I made this instead," he says, nodding towards the tea.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Of course," Rose says, opening her door and letting him inside her quarters.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>As she goes to sit down, he places the tea on the table in front of her and wraps the blanket around her shoulders. Then presses the blanket in more firmly, making it snug.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He goes to sit in the opposite chair and stays quiet for a few moments, though she jus<em>t knows</em> he's dying to ask her a million questions. But he waits, patient as ever.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>In the meanwhile, she absentmindedly glances out the window and runs the mission over again in her mind, thinking of all the things she could've done or changed to make it go better.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She starts to tell him just <em>one</em> of the things she could have done better--because in the few months they've been together they've unconsciously gotten into the habit of casually debriefing after each other's missions--when she notices the soft smile that appears on his face.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"...what?" She asks him, looking down at her jumpsuit. "Do I have dirt on me or something? Actually, <em>scratch</em> <em>that,</em> I have dirt and scratches <em>everywhere</em> and I'm <em>so</em> disgusting, I really ought to shower instead of enjoying this tea..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And he just chuckles in response to her rambles. It's quite uncharacteristic of him, which weirds her out <em>more</em>. <em>What is going on</em>...</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"No, I was just thinking about how brilliant you are, Rose. Brilliant and beautiful and so very caring. Even when people don't deserve it. <em>Especially</em> when they don't deserve it," he says warmly, and she knows <em>exactly</em> what he's not saying, that he's including <em>himself</em> among the people he thinks don't deserve her kindness.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Oh.</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You're brown-nosing, Armitage, which is very unlike you; I have mud all over this uniform, and it's <em>drenched</em>, and my hair is sticky with <em>Force knows what</em>, and <em>yes</em>, you <em>do</em> absolutely deserve kindness--" and she grabs his hand gently, despite the fact that<em> this</em> is still very new...because she knows he responds to kind touch possibly even <em>more</em> than kind words. And because his hand is soft and warm and she wants to feel a little less cold right now.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He looks down at their hands and then back up at her, his smile widening. Possibly one of the few genuine smiles she's ever seen on his face.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Thanks for the tea," she tells him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And she finds herself smiling in return, because, <em>oh, I love this man</em>.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me before TROS: /super duper angst writer, Does Not Know How To Write Fluffy Fic\<br/>Me post-TROS: /ALL THE FLUFF AND ~LOVE~ AND HEA, WE KNOW NOTHING ELSE\</p><p>(also, the "Armitage Hux and all his babies" ficlet (aka "The Kids Aren't Alright" prequel #2) is coming, I promise. Currently only an outline, but I'll get to writing it out one day.)</p><p>Come find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/amethyststeam">twitter</a> and <a href="https://thestolenrelic.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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